


Home Is Where The Impala Is

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Caring John Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Gen, John Winchester Being an Asshole, Sad Dean Winchester, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Sneezing, The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Sam is at Stanford. John is off on a solo hunt somewhere. Dean is all alone with a horrible fever-y cold, and finds he just can't face the prospect of spending time in his dingy, lonely little motel room. He can't, okay? Not today. So he gets all the blankets he can find and snuggles up all warm and cozy in the Impala, because Baby is family and Baby is home, and Baby is all he has right now.
Kudos: 36





	Home Is Where The Impala Is

Two months. 

It had been two months since Sam had left for Stanford. He hadn't even told Dean. He had left Dean a note and then tried to call him afterwards. Dean had picked up the phone, but he hadn't said anything, instead listening to his brother drone on about how sorry he was and how he would always care for Dean blah blah blah. Dean couldn't risk talking since he feared choking up on the phone. Sam wouldn't have called him weak, but Dean didn't want to think about what Sam would think of him. His big brother who could take down a werewolf or a vampire, getting weepy on the phone just because his adult brother decided to make something of himself. That wouldn't have gone over well in Dean's eyes.

Luckily, that had been a while ago. He had not thought of Sam once, sort of. He had thought of Sam, but only with bitterness and a bit of worry. Dean had taken out an angry spirit and Sam was somewhere studying his life away. But, at least he was safe. Dean couldn't find the words to express how thankful he was that Sam was safe and sound, even if that meant he wasn’t with his family. He would've appreciated if Sam was back with them, but that wasn't a possibility. He had made his choice and Dean had to live with that.

Sam always had told Dean that not talking about his feelings would eventually eat him from the inside and make him sick. He had caught the worst flu of his life after their father had been hurt so bad that he had been in a coma for five days. When life changing things happened, Dean's body just shut down. Sam had always been there to take care of him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. There was no Sam now.

On top of that there was no Dad either. He had left for a solo hunt since he had insisted that Dean's skills had become 'lacking' and 'not up to par' as they were before. Dean didn't want to point out that he was having a hard time adjusting to not being with his brother, considering that he and Sam had been with each other all the time since practically Sam was born. Dean just let him go, though, and hoped that he would have a little time to himself at the motel.

That's when it happened.

Dean awoke early one morning and felt like he had been hit by a bus. His entire body ached and felt like someone was almost squeezing his bones from the inside. His head was dully throbbing and his sinuses pulsed with a strange itching sensation at the innermost region. Dean hated this feeling yet he knew this feeling only too well. He didn't get sick often, but when he did it was absolutely terrible. At least when he was sick before Sam was usually with him. This time Sam wasn't.

"Huh'TcshHShh!"

Dean was slightly propelled forward by the force of it, yet he didn't even bother to cover. He would've if Sam was there since his brother would bitch at him until he did. But, it was just him alone in the motel. He couldn't get more sick from his own germs. Besides, it had snuck up on him so quickly that he hadn't even realized it was upon him.

Dean fell back down on the bed in a tangle of sheets that were drenched in his sweat. He threw an arm over his face before he pinched the bridge of his nose in his fingers. He breathed loudly through his mouth as he thought about how clogged his sinuses were at the moment. He tried to sniff through his nose, but the air that managed to break through only resulted in tickling his inflamed nostrils and caused his breath to catch.

"Huh'TsShshshh!"

This time Dean forced a hand to clamp over his face powerfully. The congestion that he felt started to leak from his nose and run from his fingers, down his palm. He felt the wet, sticky substance that would've made Sam just about scream in disgust at Dean. He was always insisting that even though they always caught each other's colds that they could at least try to be sanitary. Dean used to roll his eyes and grumble at his brother or throw his used tissue at him to really get his brother riled up. Now he would do anything to hear those words again.

"Where are you when I need you, Sammy," Dean asked, almost expecting his brother's voice to drift through the motel while he stood at the entrance of the motel, eyes gleaming wickedly at his brother’s condition. He knew now that would only be wishful thinking on his part. 

His brother was gone and he wasn't coming back.

Dean gulped as he thought about all that Sam and him had accomplished together. They had been nearly inseparable since Sam had been born and it had only increased with the strain of their lives. They were constantly on the road or in a motel rooms and that left no room for friends or attachments. Their father was cold and calloused, so it had been left to Dean to do most of the raising of Sam. The only thing that Dean didn't do was provide money for things like food. Then again, when he had gotten older he had hustled pool and most of that money had gone to Sam.

But, Sam had decided to just leave that all behind. He had left their father, their life, and most importantly, left Dean. That was something that Dean couldn't handle. Sam was the only good thing that he had in this life and now he had nothing, absolutely nothing. At least, he had next to nothing and this cold.

"Hut'TcShhsShh! Hu'Hutcshsh!"

This time Dean felt the congestion seep down his hand again. He clamped his hand over his nose and pulled the snot from his nostrils to the best of his ability before he sat there, almost frozen. Small goosebumps broke out all along his body, but he could see the ones on his arms the best. They made him realize just how cold he was and how awful of a feeling it was. He was cold, miserable, and gross.

Dean turned and grabbed the tissue from the table beside him. He grabbed a few tissues and threaded them over his nose and blew as noisily as humanly possible. Sam used to hate when he did that and would always complain. However, he wasn't there so Dean could blow his nose to his heart’s content without brother anyone. Once he was finished he cleaned off the goo from his hand and from between his fingers. 

"I am not doing this," Dean growled miserably. 

He was not going to do this, not today. He didn't want to just sit here all miserable and alone in a crappy motel room. His Dad wasn't there and Sam wasn't there. He was all alone and he didn't do well when he was alone. He was never alone and now he was. He was alone, achy, and sick.

Dean coughed wetly against his wrist as he felt spittle fall on his bare skin. He sniffled pathetically before he turned and saw the Impala's keys laying on the counter. He let out a growl of determination as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt weak and achy, but he didn't care. He felt a strange general uncomfortableness spread over him and it was almost confusing. It was as if someone was pressing small needles against his skin, but not enough to hurt. It was strange.

"Hut'Tcshsh! Hut'Tchshsh!"

And then there was that. It was awful the way that it made his nose buzz and run. He was like a snot factory and it didn't matter how many times he blew or wiped his nose, it just kept coming. He remembered Sam when he was younger would go as long as he could not blowing his nose since he didn't see the point. Dean had put an end to that real quick, but it made him smile just thinking about it.

Dean finally was able to stand and not fall completely over. He forced himself to grab the comforter from his bed and then headed to the small closet by the bathroom. He found two more very scratchy blankets and pulled them out, deciding that they were better than nothing. He then went to his father's bed and took the comforter from there. They also had some blankets in the car that should do the trick.

Under the weight of the blankets, Dean forced himself outside. The keys dangled from one of his fingers and he nearly dropped them as a shiver shook his entire body. It wasn't overly cold outside, but any air on his skin bothered Dean tremendously. He flinched when he managed to shuffle toward the Impala. He unlocked it, threw the blankets into the backseat, and climbed in after them. He slammed the door behind him, falling forward onto the seat.

Dean started to wrap himself in as many of the blankets and comforters as possible. It was nearly impossible to get comfortable or wrap his entire body in the blankets, but he did the best that he could. He propped one of the comforters under his head and snuggled against the car door. He arched his back painfully against the seats as he looked up at the roof. He moaned in pain and discomfort, allowing the fever he was sure he had settle deep within his bones. This was where Sam had always been the best. He would lay with Dean just so that Dean's body had something warm and firm to press against. They never used to talk about it once Dean's fever broke, but Dean was always grateful for it.

"I wish you were here, Sam," Dean panted to no one in particular. He gritted his teeth in pain as he lifted a hand against his sweaty brow. He rubbed his thumb against it, then turning to rub the back of his hand against his tickling nose. "Do you think about me, Sam? Do you remember what we did together? Do you remember your family? Do you miss us? Do you miss Dad?" His voice broke. "Do you miss me?"

"Huh'TchsHsh! Hu'Tcshsh!"

Dean wasn't sure if he was really expecting to hear Sam answer, but he sure wished he could hear his voice and feel his presence beside him. It was quiet in the Impala. It was never quiet in there when they were in there together. They would either joke around with each other or harass one another. They would talk and talk about school or their latest hunt. Sometimes they would even act like their Dad wasn't listening in and talk about how much their lies sucked.

Either way it was something. It was something that Dean missed and wanted back so badly. Unfortunately, he didn't see how that was going to happen. Sam was gone. He went to college and left Dean and their father behind. John hadn't said much about it, but on the inside Dean could tell it was killing him. Dean wanted, needed, his brother back. Now he was sick and alone.

Dean closed his eyes and breathed heavily, which turned into a set and unrestrained cough against the blanket that was almost in front of his face to conserve his body heat. He blinked tears from his eyes as he allowed his head to lull to the side as everything became fuzzy and faded away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dean. Dean? Dean!"

Dean forced his eyes open in shock. He moaned as he turned on his side so that his head faced the back of the seat. He rubbed his itchy, runny nose against it and the pressure seemed to stem the persistent tickle for at least the moment. He coughed painfully against it, and for a moment, he was able to pretend that he was leaning against Sam. Sam would allow him to cough and sneeze against him when he was feverish and wouldn't complain. He would give anything for that time back.

He suddenly felt something pat the bulk of the blanket and managed to nudge his shoulder through them. "Dean, can you hear me, son?"

Dean rolled on his other side. He sucked in a painful, almost crushing breath as he looked up at his father through glassy eyes. John's face was etched in worry when he gazed at Dean. However, he looked beat from his latest hunt that left a fresh cut on his forehead and a couple bruised ribs. But, his thoughts were only on his eldest son.

"Dad," Dean croaked in surprise while his nose wrinkled. "Huh'TshchsSHhh!" Dean didn't have time to cover and ended up sneezing openly toward the back of the passenger seat. Dean's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he gazed at his father, expecting to be harshly chastised. 

John said nothing about it as he patted Dean's shoulder once more. "Come on. Let's get you inside. It's freezing," John pointed out as he tried to gingerly help Dean into a sitting position. Dean moaned as the cocoon of blankets slid from his shoulders, shivering despite himself as he looked up at his father.

"Can you walk," John asked.

Dean gritted his teeth. "I'm not an invalid!"

John raised his hands up in surrender. "Fine." He sounded frustrated, but he didn’t leave him. Instead he stood by the side of the door, looking at his son expectantly. He waited patiently as Dean scrambled from the Impala, nearly falling forward on his feet. 

"Easy, easy," John started as he gripped Dean's shoulder to stop him from falling forward. John glanced at the pained expression appearing on his son’s face before Dean turned his head to sneeze away from his father.

"Huh'TcshsSHhh! Huh'TscChhShh!"

John made sure that Dean didn't fall forward in the process, keeping his fingers curled into Dean’s jacket on his shoulders. His nose streamed madly as he snuffled deeply in an attempt to keep the congestion from leaking from his nostrils. John said nothing since he was never good with the boys when they were sick. Dean would always be the one to look after both Sam and himself at the first sign of illness while John watched on hesitantly from the sidelines. He wasn’t a natural caregiver like Mary had been or how Dean was with Sam. He was severely out of his element. Now Dean needed John's help and John wasn't sure what to do.

"Alright, let's get you back inside and warm," John told him as he helped Dean back into the motel room.

John sat Dean down on the bed while Dean raised his hands over his nose in a steeple to sneeze loudly.

"Huh'TcsHshh! Huh'ThShshh!"

"Bless you," John called as he came back with a box of tissues and thrust it on the end of the bed, which he felt was close enough. "You look like you need these."

Dean grinned as he lowered his hands from his face to reveal the result of his nasal plight. His red rimmed nostrils were slick and glimmering in mucus while a stream ran from his right nostril and onto his upper lip. He knew he looked more than a little pathetic.

Ordinarily Sam would have laughed at him and threw a tissue at him so that he could mop up his nose. John just stared at him like he was something that he would hunt. Dean immediately retreated and lifted a hand against his still twitching nostrils. He let out a liquid sniff, feeling the goo spread to the side of his hand.

"Damnit," Dean swore as he looked around.

John raised an eyebrow as he saw Dean struggling. He nudged the tissue box closer, with was on the corner of the bed, and Dean scooped it up quickly. He started to press the soft tissues to his nose, blowing his nose roughly and desperately to clear out everything from the depths of his sinuses. Once he was finished he leaned back, breathing through his open mouth since his enflamed nostrils still made it difficult for him to breathe. He coughed once more as his chest expanded with each painful breath.

"You alright," John asked curiously.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" His tone was bitter, angrier than John would've expected. 

"Not good I suppose," John answered gruffly, unable to think about how he should react. For one, he hadn’t seen Dean this visibly angry at him in a long time. That was Sam's game, not his. 

Dean curled his lip as he blew into the tissues once more to clear his nose and make it easier to talk. "Why did you come back so soon? You didn't call or anything."

"I....um....needed you for part of the hunt, but seeing that you're sick again, I guess I'm going to have to do this on my own," John told him darkly with a hint of disappointment embedded in his words.

The anger that had dwelled in Dean for his entire life seemed to peak at that moment. "Sick? Again? I was sick a year ago when you didn't come back for two weeks and didn't bother to call Sam or I and Sam was so sick that I had to take him to the hospital! I was exhausted and that's why I was sick. Did I disappoint you because you can't use me when you need me? Huh'Tchshsh!"

"Dean-" John began sharply.

Dean had lifted his wrist to his nose to stop the stem of snot. He reached over and grabbed another tissue and just held it there. He decided to let the stream just flow since blowing didn’t seem to do anything for it. He didn't want to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him too weak. He was already sick and he coudln't do anything about that, but he didn't have to look like he was about to keel over at any moment.  
  
"Don't even start," Dean argued, a hacking cough gripping his entire body. He nearly fell from the bed as he tried to stand on wobbly legs in the midst of his coughing fit. He finally managed to compose himself and turned watery eyes to his father. "Just shut up!"

John stood and slammed a hand down on the table, causing Dean to jump from the noise. "You will not speak to me that way! I am your father and—“

"And what? I'm an adult now, Dad. I've done hunts on my own and I know how to make a life for my own," he reported, suddenly diving forward with another shuddering sneeze. "Huh'Tcshshh!" This one was weaker and it showed how much all of this was taking out of Dean.

John shook his head and grabbed his wallet that he had dropped on the table. "I'm going out for a drink and when I get back you better be damn grateful that I'm your father and appreciate all that I've done for you and Sam."

"All that you've done? This is the life that you thought we wanted? Not a chance! Sam would've been better anywhere, with anyone else and you know it." Dean's eyes were blazing in rage. "Look, you may be my father, but you have to earn the title of Dad."

Seething, John headed to the door and slammed it shut, causing the wall to reverberate from the force. Dean let out a breath of relief as he laid on the bed on his back. He took in another deep breath only to cough, releasing some of the congestion in his tight chest. He turned on his side, lungs burning in his chest as he attempted to sit up to relieve the pressure that was choking him.

Once he composed himself after a few productive hacks, he reached out and grabbed the half used box of tissues. He then grabbed one of the remaining blankets in the motel room and the keys to the Impala. He grumbled to himself as he trudged toward the door, feet scraping against the stiff carpet. He was about as livid as his father was. The only difference was how high his fever was and how clearly he wasn't thinking.

He could hear Sam's reasoning clear in his head. He would've invited him back into the motel and let him vent about their father. He would make Dean eat terrible tasting medicine and soft, bland food to soothe his churning stomach. Sam would take his temperature and then force Dean to do things to lower it. Now that Sam was gone, Dean got none of that. All he got was a sullen attitude and a damaged ego.

He lumbered over to the Impala and opened the back door. He climbed in and laid down on the backseat where all of the blankets were already waiting for him. Dean found how relieved he was that his father had walked to the bar across the street instead of driving. He breathed heavily, coughing as he did so. The coughing seemed to tickle his already bothered nose as the itch that he had been feeling all day took hold.

"Oh no," he complained as his breath started to hitch. "Not again. Eh...huh....Huh'Tshshhsh!"

The sneeze forced him forward so that his nose pressed against one of the rough blankets. He moaned as he started to rub it back and forth against the corner as roughly as possible. It made his nose burn and forced the feeling to sneeze take over once more.

"Huh'ThcShshh!"

Followed by another.

"Huh'TchShsh"

And another.

"Huh'tCshsh!"

When he was finally finished he relaxed face down on the blanket, breathing in the faint musky scent that he could detect through his congestion. He coughed painfully as snot oozed from both nostrils. Swiftly, Dean lifted the blanket to his nose and clamped it down hard. He blew his nose loudly, breaking up the silence of the Impala. Afterwards he gave his nose a few more tentative sniffs and wipes, finally relaxing against the dry side of the blanket. He cheek was pressed against the blanket while he laid on his side, staring at the perfect angle that he had of the driver's seat. There was no one in there and that was probably a good thing. All Dean wanted to do was be alone.

Sam was gone, Dad was gone at the moment and had been emotionally gone for years, and Dean felt almost gone himself. All he had left was the Impala. The Impala would never leave him or tell him how worthless he was as a son or a brother. No, his Baby would never do that. That was because Baby is family and Baby is home, and Baby is all he had right now. Baby might be all that he'll ever have.

Dean looked up to the ceiling and blinked his eyes free of the moisture that wasn’t from his forceful coughing fits. "Come back, Sam. That's all I ask. Just come back, please. Sammy, just come back."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed and are staying safe and healthy!


End file.
